Rebirth
by Shadow of a Smile
Summary: The Tower of Babel has fallen, and the Lightning-Struck Tower has died with it. Eight years have passed, but the bond between a servant and a master remains unbroken. A tower can always be rebuilt, and a man can always be reborn... Riff's POV
1. Purgatory

Prologue: Purgatory

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There was nothing but darkness.

No, I shouldn't say that... nothing but this darkness would be infinitely more pleasurable than what I had to endure. Certainly, all I could see was darkness. A complete and utter void: not like the night, speckled by stars, or even the shadows cast by a streetlamp. But darkness was bearable, if not pleasant.

What made this so hard to endure was that _he_ was here with me.

He... my other self, my true self. Riffael. I thought... I hoped... I desperately wished that I had killed him. _Had_ I killed him? I couldn't make sense of it. I had thought he was dead and gone. Instead, he was here with me in this emptiness.

"_Of course I am. Do you really think that you could exist without me, Riff? That an artificial soul could truly overcome the real being he was born from?"_

Then there was laughter. Cold, hard, cruel laughter, something that would come from the mouth of a demon. A demon from the deepest pits of hell. I couldn't even tell how long he laughed. Moments, minutes, days, weeks... time didn't exist in this place. There was only us. Riff and Riffael. Was this some sort of punishment? Atoning for some sin? Surely, I would wake up soon... what would Lord Cain do, if I wasn't there? I wasn't selfish enough to think that he would care any great deal, but...

My last memory of him was still haunting. He smiled when I tried to push him away, running back into my arms. Then... then what happened? Pain. That was all I could remember. But he had smiled, right before everything around me had turned into this void. That was something I could remember, something that could even keep Riffael's cruel voice from intruding too far into my solitude. It seemed so fitting, somehow, like everything had come full circle. The first time I had seen him, crying and lost... to my last memory of him, smiling and rushing towards me.

"_I wonder what he's doing without you. Do you think he's gone insane? Perhaps he's killed himself by now..."_

Lord Cain wouldn't do that. He couldn't kill himself... not for me. But, once again, Riffael's laughter rang through the void around me, and a memory came to me... something I didn't want to remember, not when I could so easily relate it to Riffael's words. The time when I had lain strapped to a bed, held down in the throes of venom-induced hallucination. Lord Cain... shouting, going into a panic, meeting with Mikaila, that horrible, poisonous girl... just to keep me alive.

It had been impossible to let Cain take that burden by himself, to let him try and sacrifice himself for me. I hadn't let it happen. I wouldn't let it happen this time, either. But... where was I, now? This nothingness was more complete than anything I had ever known. Around me was nothing... I was nothing. I didn't have a corporeal form at all... just a consciousness. What was this? What... was I?

**You are forgiven.**

Where did that thought come from? It wasn't Riffael... it was simply something that came to me. A knowledge that was unquestionable, yet... nonsensical, at the same time. Forgiven? For what?

**Everything.**

Once again, that feeling of certainty, of ultimate truth, filled me. And then... I saw.

Before then, I couldn't say that I was really seeing anything. There was nothingness... almost as if I had shut my eyes to the world. But suddenly, a small pinprick of light cut through the darkness. It widened, slowly, invitingly, alluringly... drawing me closer. I didn't go to it, not really. I didn't have any way to walk or move, but it was slowly beckoning me, and however it happened, I responded. I was vaguely conscious of Riffael's disapproval... his hatred. This light was something that he abhorred.

So it must be good, right?

Then I stopped. Something was holding me back from the inexorable pull of the light. Why? It was so beautiful... what could I want, other than to go to that beautiful light?

But the darkness could be so beautiful too. Darkness, like God's cursed child, like... Lord Cain?

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_Author's Note_: Reviews are adored, as always. And, of course, I don't own _Godchild_, or any of the characters.


	2. Hell

_Author's Note_: Please review? Pretty please? And for those of you who have reviewed... many thanks! Godchild and all of the characters belong to the wonderful Kaori Yuki, not me.

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Chapter 1: Hell

"He's gone, Cain. His spirit was fading away when I called for him."

"He can't be gone. He wouldn't abandon me. He promised!"

That was Lord Cain's voice. Who was he talking about? I wanted to ask... to figure out why there was barely-disguised panic in Lord Cain's voice, and why someone else was here, talking about invoking spirits, of all things. But I couldn't find my voice. I hadn't used it in... so long. However long that spell in the darkness had lasted.

Perhaps I had been sick. But that was wrong... I shouldn't have been sick. And that darkness wasn't something that came with a normal sickness. Had I blacked out, perhaps? That was the only thing I could come up with. I only... I only had one day to live? That realization was the final crack in the dam that had held back my memories. Now they were pouring back into my consciousness in a flood... drowning me. The Doctor, the lightning-struck tower, Lord Alexis, Lord Cain... and blood. So much blood, being drowned in blood as Lord Alexis watched and something... some beast inside me grew ever stronger...

"_Interesting. What else do you remember, Riff?"_

There was a note of satisfaction to that repulsive voice, the voice that continued to haunt me. I had killed him... I swear I had killed him. As his harsh laughter filled my mind, I felt a ghost of unimaginable pain shoot up my right arm, like a bullet wound reopening. I gasped, trying to put my hand over my arm... to stop the pain. I had to stop the pain... anything to stop the pain...

"_You caused this pain, Riff. Remember? You shot me."_

"Riff?" What was that frantic emotion in Lord Cain's voice? "Riff!"

"_He's disgusting. A repulsive little insect. A weak little bug begging to be stepped on. So weak that he relies on someone like you... you're pathetic, both of you. Do you want to see how weak __**you**__ are, Riff? How useless you are in protecting your precious little lord?"_

I couldn't breathe. That throbbing, burning pain... it was blotting out everything. I couldn't even hear Lord Cain anymore. There was only pain... pain, and Riffael's laughter. Everything was fading... I vaguely felt my body moving, acting at Riffael's command instead of my own, as I sunk into the shadows. Lashing out, trying desperately to hurt someone who I hated so much... no, not me, it was Riffael, Riffael wanted to kill...

"Get away from him, Cain!" There was something... someone... restraining me. Thank god... thank whichever god or devil pitied me. That was my last thought before the darkness, that gentle, healing darkness, wrapped me in its embrace.

When I awoke, I couldn't see anything. The only difference between unconsciousness and awakening was that I was aware of small noises around me. A small rustle as a page was turned in a book, a slight creaking as someone shifted their weight in a chair...footsteps... and then someone's voice. A deeper and brusquer voice than Lord Cain's... Crehador? "This won't help him. You're killing yourself like this. What are you trying to accomplish?"

"He was here. I can't let him get away from me again." That was Lord Cain. Again, they were talking about some mysterious other person... some man... were they talking about me? I tried to speak, to ask what was going on, but my voice wouldn't respond to my will. All I managed was a soft moan.

Immediately, there was a scraping sound and hurried footsteps, like whoever had been sitting in the chair had flung himself hurriedly out of it. "Riff?" Lord Cain's voice was much closer now, as if he was right beside me.

"Cain, be careful!" Crehador said quickly. His heavier footsteps followed closely after his voice, until he too was beside me.

"_Yes, be careful, little lord."_ Riffael paraphrased, a twisted sort of glee in his voice. No. Not again. I wouldn't let him harm Lord Cain. Never again. There was a light touch on my forehead, someone's hand brushing across it, then a cold rag replaced the person's warm hand. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I had been sick. This didn't make any sense... there was no illness recorded that should result in that strange, all-encompassing darkness, but putting a cold compress on a person's forehead was the easiest way to treat a fever or a weak headache. Even though it didn't make any sense, I could feel the haze around my mind clearing up.

"...Lord Cain?" I said softly, confused, as I finally opened my eyes. It was him. His golden-green, cat-like eyes were the same, utterly unchanged from when I had seen him last. But he seemed... different. Older. His build, though slender as always, had changed from the wiry frame of an older teen to a broad-shouldered, thin-waisted body of a young man in his twenties. His face, too, had lost the last vestiges of boyhood, though he still had angular, handsome features.

Some unidentifiable emotion shot across his face as I said his name, and then he quickly retreated back into impassivity, as he had always done. "Lousy servant," he muttered. I smiled lightly despite myself. Lord Cain was still Lord Cain, no matter how he might look. He could never express himself well, especially not in front of others... I found my glance drawn to Crehador now. He, too, was older, appearing to be at least in his late twenties or early thirties. He was obviously attempting to be detached, as he always did, but the concern he showed when looking down at Lord Cain wasn't concealed well enough to fool anyone. Once again, I found myself wondering what had happened. Perhaps, if I was still sick, I was hallucinating. This was nothing like the hallucinations I had gotten before with the spider's venom... nor was it anything like the frequent dreams I had about the fire. Why would I hallucinate about days yet to come? A sudden wave of nausea overtook me, and I wrenched my eyes shut.

"Cain, get back," Crehador ordered calmly. It sounded like he had taken a few more steps forward, perhaps to block Lord Cain from my reach. Perhaps... perhaps that was a good idea.

"_Oh, no. I would never dream of interrupting this touching reunion."_ The sarcasm in Riffael's voice was palpable, and I quickly forced his cynicism and dark amusement out of my mind. I could do that. I was stronger than him. I had to be... for Lord Cain. In that moment of distraction, Crehador and Lord Cain had come to some sort of agreement... at least, there was someone bending over me. I could feel his presence... it was Lord Cain, I was sure of it. Not for any particular reason. I just knew it with the same sort of certainty that I had when I had searched for him on the grounds of the Hargreaves' mansion so many years ago.

Suddenly something was being pressed against my mouth. Something warm. Was I supposed to eat it? Medicine of some sort, perhaps, or food... I opened my mouth, and a harsh, metallic taste overwhelmed my senses. Blood. Someone was feeding me blood. It was disgusting, wrong... yet... I could feel myself regaining strength, my body acting on its own and licking at whatever was giving me this sustenance. What was wrong with me?

"_Nothing at all."_

Riffael's voice was the happiest I had ever heard it. What... why was he so gleeful? What did he know that I didn't? I came back to my senses in time to realize what was going on. Lord Cain had bent over me, and Lord Cain... he was giving me his blood?

My eyes shot open once more, and met with Cain's. His face wasn't far away from mine, and his golden cat's-eyes were staring almost eagerly at me. What was he thinking? His face was pale, and his wrist was still pressed against my lips, though the blood had almost stopped flowing from the slash just below his hand.

What had I done? I sat up, raising his arm and turning his slashed inner wrist upwards, so the blood would stop flowing as violently. Then, as I pressed two fingers above the cut to check his pulse, I realized that I was moving. None of this made sense. How? I had been immobile minutes ago.

Crehador had obviously noticed my revelation, and his eyes were cold as he stared at me. "A deadly doll only needs blood as nourishment," he said simply.

A deadly doll.

I was a deadly doll? One of Delilah's inhuman, blasphemous creations? But... Delilah had been destroyed. I knew that for a fact. Then how was this possible?

Once again, Riffael's harsh laughter rippled through my head. Then, as Lord Cain made some small movement, I was able to forcibly ignore that horrible cacophony. Lord Cain needed me right now. "Get..." I paused for a second as my own voice startled me. Even my voice was recognizably stronger. What sort of demon was I? "Get clean bandages for Lord Cain, please."

If I was a demon, that was fine. As long as I was with Lord Cain, as long as I could serve him and help him, I would be able to take anything that God or the Devil threw at me. Anything for Lord Cain. Crehador silently walked away, apparently satisfied that I wasn't going to harm Lord Cain in his absence, and I was able to turn my attention fully to my master.

"Lord Cain, I don't understand," I said quietly. I still was supporting his wrist, though the blood was no longer freely flowing from his wound, and his pulse was completely normal. With his free hand, he gestured to the book that now lay on a table beside my bed.

The Bible? That made even less sense. Lord Cain had never been religious, no doubt greatly due to Lord Alexis's persecution of him using Biblical allegory. But that was apparently what he had been reading when he was sitting, waiting for me to wake. His actions had pieced themselves together in my mind, but his reasons for doing them, as always, were an enigma. Then I noticed that there was a marker sticking out of the holy book. Just a single, small piece of paper. Perhaps that was what Lord Cain wanted me to notice?

I questioningly turned my gaze to Lord Cain once again. I wasn't going to take the book. That would mean dropping Lord Cain's wrist when the bleeding had almost stopped. Lord Cain smirked slightly, the expression still familiar even on his older face, then glanced towards the book again. " 'He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die,' " he quoted, his golden eyes sparkling with some sort of amusement as he looked at me. "John 11."

Even I had to admit that he looked half mad in that moment. But that appearance quickly faded, and I noticed that he didn't just look pale because of blood loss. There were deep, bruise-colored circles under his eyes, and he was slightly underweight. His hair was even longer than he had kept it before, and subtly uneven in style, as if he had been cutting it himself. What had he been doing with himself?

How long had I been gone?

"Have you been eating poorly, Lord Cain?" I asked gently, keeping myself on the most important topic... Lord Cain's wellbeing.

He made a small, disgruntled noise, then explained it with, "I haven't had your tea in eight years. Of course I haven't been eating well. I should dock your pay for that, you know."

Eight years. No wonder he looked older... but I would have time to ruminate on that later. Lord Cain's health was the pressing concern now. I set his arm down on the bed as the blood clotted over his wound, looking him over with a physician's eye. "How much sleep have you been getting, sir?"

"I haven't slept for three days."

Apparently my shock had broadcast itself on my face, because he chuckled quietly and darkly. I heard footsteps once again. Obviously Crehador's, judging by the heaviness of the steps... not to mention that he was the only other person I had seen so far.

"You first awoke three days ago," the medium supplied evenly, explaining away a confusion I hadn't even vocalized. Apparently he had been listening in on at least part of our conversation. Lord Cain had deprived himself of sleep... to sit at my bedside? After I... or, rather, Riffael... had tried to attack him with this body?

Wordlessly, I took the bandages as Crehador offered them. They were good, clean cloth, so I wasted no more time in gently taking Lord Cain's arm again and binding the wound on his wrist. This was insane. But what right did I have to sanity, if I had abandoned Lord Cain for eight years?

"You should get some sleep, Lord Cain," I said calmly. He needed rest. The human body wasn't meant to handle intense sleep deprivation like he had apparently forced on himself. I was surprised he was functioning normally. But even if he was still rational, he was causing himself harm every second he stayed awake. He had opened his mouth to protest, but Crehador had taken matters into his own hands. The medium put one hand on my lord's shoulder, guiding him subtly out of the chair and towards the doorway. That was when it became obvious that Lord Cain wasn't feeling well... if he had his wits about him, he would be protesting even that gesture. Or would he? Could he have changed in the eight years I had been gone? The thought was enough to cause a slow ache in my chest: not another symptom, simply an emotional response. Something like a parent must feel when they realize that their child is now an adult. Was that how I viewed him? As my child? That was wrong.

He was my master. That was all.

"_How poetic."_

The dark amusement in Riffael's voice confused me. What was he talking about?

"_Didn't you see his wrist? That wasn't the first time he had cut himself there. And the last time left a scar."_

Lord Cain had tried to kill himself. My mind became blank, numb with shock. Poetic? Riffael would think like that. An inhuman thought, something that would only cross the mind of a twisted, sadistic soul...

"_Oh no."_ The humor in Riffael's voice was palpable. _"Poetic in the sense that you no longer have your scar, but your little master gave himself one in your place."_

I glanced down at my own wrist, no longer sure if the look was under my own volition or not. In this body, my wrist was unmarked from the several times I had slashed it after the fire. After my entire family had died. What had Lord Cain been thinking? He was too good, far too good, for Death to take for its own.

The door opening shook me from my thoughts, and loosened whatever grip Riffael had on me. Crehador had returned, which meant that Cain had to be sleeping. That was good. But the look on the usually impassive medium's face was perplexing. He looked almost... angry. Perhaps annoyed was the better word.

"I didn't do this for you," he said evenly, though there was an unmasked tension to his voice.

I wasn't sure what to respond to that. Was I even supposed to respond? Would that make things any better? "Do you know what happened after you died? He tried to kill himself four times. Because of you!" He continued. His hands were balled into tight fists, his knuckles white, but his face was perfectly impassive.

"Thank you for keeping Lord Cain safe in my ab..." I started, trying to placate him somewhat. I sensed years' worth of frustration bubbling up in the way he was talking. I cut myself off as he started moving towards me. For a second I thought I had succeeded in my attempt to calm him, because the medium was no longer obviously in a fury. His pose had relaxed, and he slowly walked to my bedside, meeting his eyes with mine.

"He tried to poison himself with arsenic. He tried to cut his wrists with a glass shard. He tracked down a deadly spider and coerced it into biting him. He even tried to jump off some old tower in the Lauderdale family's garden," Crehador said, his voice quiet, but his eyes blazing. In a way, I had calmed him. He was no longer heatedly mad... instead, he was coolly furious. Angry in an utterly chilling way. And that was only augmented by his words, which he pronounced as evenly as Death itself. Lord Cain had tried to kill himself four times... all in chillingly symbolic ways. Crehador wouldn't know that, of course. He wouldn't know that Lord Cain's father had regularly poisoned him with arsenic as a child, slowly weakening him. Nor would he have possibly known of the glass shards that fell as London's Tower of Babel fell on top of us. He couldn't have recognized a touch like Mikaila's in the poisonous spider. And the tower in the Lauderdale's garden... Lord Cain would try to commit suicide the way his lover, Meridiana, had.

That was unmistakably Cain's way of thinking. He had been insane in a cold, logical way, trying to kill himself in any way that would make a good, final ending to the story of his life. Perhaps that was his father's final way to influence his child. Lord Alexis had deprived him of everything. And Lord Cain took it upon himself to take the last thing he had from himself. His life. "But how..." I stopped myself before I could ask anything more. I wasn't even sure what to ask. How did Crehador keep him alive, perhaps. Or... how had Cain survived this long? When Lord Cain wanted something, he would have it. If Lord Cain wanted to die, he would have killed himself. He wouldn't let something go until he accomplished it.

"A gardener at the Lauderdale's who saw Cain jump mentioned something that started a different train of thought," Crehador stated, obviously interpreting my stopped question as the latter of the two. "He was a former member of Delilah, and he mentioned the deadly dolls..."

I understood now. A gardener at the Lauderdale's... that was... as I thought back to Lord Cain's experience with them, I slowly realized who that supposed "gardener" was. The same man who had a reason to want Cain to live... because a man he had cared for had died keeping me alive. The doctor's assistant. Cassian. He had always been taking up odd jobs, using them as a way to keep an eye on the doctor... and he had been a gardener's assistant before, while the doctor had been influencing Gilford.

Once Cain had an idea, he wouldn't let it go. And obviously he had seized upon the idea of bringing me back as a deadly doll. "What you are goes against every law of nature," Crehador finally said, his voice quiet. "This was for Cain, not you." The medium had obviously calmed, and he sat down in the chair that Lord Cain had previously occupied.

"I know," I responded simply. I knew, and I accepted it. That was the only reason I could forgive this... the only reason that turning me into a monster was acceptable. It was for Lord Cain.

"_How sweet."_ Riffael's sarcastic voice had invaded my thoughts again. I was starting to understand that... whenever I was feeling any sort of negative emotion, he regained some of his power. And since I was feeling regret over abandoning Lord Cain...

"_Oh? You think that _you_ have any sort of control over me?"_ The sarcasm in his voice had been replaced by anger. _"Let's test that, shall we?"_ Suddenly, the mind-numbing pain that had washed over me before returned in full force. I had to fight it. I had to. Riffael would try to hurt Lord Cain, try to kill him, try to...

I couldn't think any more...

"Riffael..." I groaned, not sure whether I was talking to my other personality or trying to warn the other person in the room. I didn't even know if Crehador would be able to interpret what I had said. All I knew was that I was losing control, losing the fight... I couldn't lose, not when that could mean that Lord Cain would be...

Strong arms slammed me back down into the bed. Crehador again. Even if he hated me for this... even if touching me repulsed him... that was fine.

Lord Cain was safe.

"_Perhaps. For now."_

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	3. Heaven

_Author's Note_: My apologies for the long time lapse since the last update. I've been rather busy in real life... as always, Godchild does not belong to me. Nor do any of the characters. On a different note, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed, subscribed, and favorited! Reviews make me all warm and fuzzy inside. It's been great writing and getting all this positive feedback. You guys really make me feel loved. It's been fun!

I'm planning on writing a sequel to this. Be on the lookout for it... it may be a while, but it will come! The tentative title is _Revealed_. As you'll see, there's a few plot points yet to be resolved. (Please don't hurt me for not resolving them. Please? Thank you for your non-violence.)

Now, without further ado, the last chapter of _Rebirth_!

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Chapter 2: Heaven

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I awoke to a throbbing headache and small aches that had nestled in the extremities of my body. How long had I been gone this time? The fact that I still had a body quickly chased away my most unreasonable fear... that I had abandoned Lord Cain for the oblivion of death once again. I tried to sit up, only to have my movements immediately restrained. I could barely get myself an inch off of the mattress.

So this was why I was alone. Crehador had tied me securely enough that he felt I was no longer a threat. And Lord Cain... hopefully, he was still asleep, and I had only been unconscious for a few hours. I looked around the room, trying to find something to loosen my bonds, some way that I could free myself and check on Lord Cain. But Crehador had been far too thorough for that, and anything that held a possibility of freeing me had been removed from the room. It was completely and utterly empty other than the bed and the single chair that Lord Cain had sat in.

Once again, I went through the motions of sitting up, this time testing the strength of my bonds instead of actually expecting to get up. If the only person that was inconvenienced by this was myself, I would have contentedly stayed where I was. But I had eight years of service to make up to Lord Cain... and the sooner I could see him again, the sooner I could assure myself that he was well, the better.

Whatever Crehador had used to bind me, it was strong. Even with the strength I had gained from stealing Lord Cain's blood, I wasn't going to be able to break free just through brute force. That was good. If I couldn't break my bonds, neither could Riffael. But now that I had recovered, I needed to be free. It didn't seem right for Crehador to be so petty as to simply leave me like this... I doubted he would do such a thing. But he, too, could have changed in these eight years...

No matter. Whatever his thought process had been, it didn't matter. Far more urgent was my need to escape. If the bonds were loose enough to give me an inch, perhaps I would be able to work my way out of them. I could still bend my legs, so that was the first thing I concentrated on. Once my feet were as close as I could get them to the rest of my body, I slipped them through what had formerly bound them. It had worked. I had to admit that I was a bit surprised. So now that the lower part of my legs were free, I could try to free my head... then my arms... and slowly I'd work towards the middle of my body. I'd be able to just remove myself from my bonds at that point. Theoretically.

I had managed to free only my head in the next few minutes, and then the sound of footsteps made me freeze. What would Crehador's reaction be when he found me partially escaped from his bindings? With luck, he would realize that I was rational once again, and allow me to see Lord Cain. I heard the click of a door opening, and tilted my head upwards in an attempt to look at Crehador as he entered. Often, a first reaction was what revealed the most about a person's innermost thoughts. What was he thinking?

But the figure that greeted me wasn't the man I had expected. "Lord Cain," I greeted him quietly, dropping my head back down as he froze in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him. The blank look that had been on his face showed that he either hadn't been expecting to find me, or hadn't been expecting me to be tied up. I assumed it was the latter, because his usual languid pacing became quick, and he had soon stood at my bedside, where I could look at him without straining the bonds I had yet to escape from.

I couldn't have been unconscious for long, because Lord Cain still had bruise-like circles under his eyes. At the most, I had been gone for a few days. But from Lord Cain's slightly ruffled hair and hastily thrown on clothes, I guessed it had been less than that. Probably a few hours at most. Lord Cain had awoken, and... immediately come to my side. "You should be resting, my lord," I said calmly. At least I was able to turn my head without being impaired by my bonds. My neck was still strapped down, but more loosely than it had been, allowing me to look at Lord Cain without too much struggle.

He didn't respond in any way. Instead, he bent down, unbuckling the straps from the bottom of the bed and unwrapping them calmly. I didn't feel any need to break the silence, so I simply sat up when the bonds had been thrown off. Lord Cain went back to the single chair in the room, sitting properly upright, watching my actions. We both remained still for a second, his face unreadable as he looked at me.

No doubt, though, he knew exactly what I was thinking. He shouldn't be awake. He had tilted his head down, and I wondered if it was from exhaustion. That was more than likely. "Lord Cain, if you would..." my voice trailed off as he raised his head again, his eyes burning on his face. My suggestion that he return to his chambers died on my lips. Perhaps it was an effect of the pallor over his already-fair skin, but his eyes seemed brighter than they ever had.

"Riff," he said calmly, his voice stronger than I had expected. He was choosing his words deliberately, but that appeared to be the only reason for the small pause in his speech. "You promised to accompany me to hell, right?"

What was behind this question? Did it matter? There was only one answer. "Yes, my lord." And I would repeat that as many times as he needed to hear it. But I almost wished I could amend that vow. He had already been through hell. Now... now I would accompany him to heaven.

"Good." That was his cursory response, but he seemed satisfied. His gaze was less intense, but he still kept his eyes fixed on me. I didn't know what he wanted of me, but he was obviously still ill, from exhaustion, lack of proper nutrition, or any number of causes.

"Lord Cain, if you would return to your chambers, I will prepare tea," I said calmly, pulling myself slowly off the bed and into a standing position. Perhaps, after tea, he would be able to be persuaded to fall back asleep. It was obvious he still needed it. It was only then that I realized where I was... or, rather, where I wasn't. This wasn't the Hargreaves mansion. I didn't even know where Lord Cain's bedchamber was. He stood, but didn't move. Instead, he looked me up and down, sizing me up. Perhaps I was different than his eight-year-old memories. Then a smirk travelled across his face.

My confusion must have been plain on my face. He said slowly, once again running his eyes over me, "I remember you being taller." That brought a small smile to my face. He had grown in these years: though he still wasn't near my height, he had reached a man's stature. I thought briefly, with a touch of amusement, that he would no longer be able to masquerade as a woman, as he had long ago, to reveal the truth behind his supposed personal doctor's identity. Long ago... in a way, that was when we first began the descent into hell. Jizabel Disraeli had appeared, and he did his best to pull Lord Cain into the darkness that he had already drowned in. That had been the start of it all... the first appearance of the mad doctor, the first mention of Lord Alexis's survival, the first whisper of the name "Delilah."

But that was no more. Delilah was gone. Lord Cain could live his life free of the shackles that had bound him since his childhood. I would make sure of that.

"_How beautiful. Something like that makes me simply... want to rip it apart."_ A low chuckle filled my mind, and quickly following it was a sense of Riffael's cruel amusement. Why... why did I feel that way? Was his power over me growing stronger as I regained more of myself? _"I did that already, of course. And I do hate to repeat myself. But it would be simply breathtaking to see again."_ My breath caught in my chest, and my knees grew weak. It was as if I was being pulled away from myself... brought to the prison of my own mind. _"It wasn't me that broke him. That was you. You left him."_ I couldn't even argue with him. He was right. I had betrayed him... I had...

"Riff!" I was vaguely conscious of a hand on my shoulder, and of Lord Cain's voice, but nothing else from the outside world could affect me. It all was merely a whisper compared to Riffael's overpowering, omnipotent presence. "Riff..." His voice was fading away, as I became more and more aware of Riffael's presence. My other self was no longer a specter of himself, a haunting shadow in my mind. He was a puppetmaster, pulling the strings of my body in a way that only served his twisted means.

"Did you really think I would come back to you?" I heard the words come out of my mouth before I was conscious of speaking them. Now I was the outsider, helplessly observing, watching Lord Cain's body freeze, his face stiffen, his eyes grow wide with shock and then dull with something akin to hopelessness, while I... my body... stood over him, smirking. No. Not again. Never again. I wouldn't let anything happen to Lord Cain. I would protect him. Always. Even from myself. Especially from myself.

"You're a weak boy, using mystique and illusions to hide your uselessness and utter..." I heard my body choke as I forced my consciousness over Riffael's, cutting off his poisonous words. The corporeal, solid feeling of having a body rushed over me. I was curled up on the floor. I couldn't breathe. Someone was calling my name and shaking my shoulder.

I closed my eyes before I had realized they had been open. I was in control again. For how long... I didn't know. Lord Cain had crouched before me, but I didn't trust myself to move towards him. It would be so simple to break him... this precious young man that I had guarded throughout my entire existence. There was no phrase to describe that realization. To realize that the person that I equated with my life was...

"_Easily eliminated, like a bothersome insect. Especially with those poisons he's so fond of. It would be so horrible if your mind were to... _slip_... for a second. Something could end up where it wasn't supposed to be..."_

Perhaps it was better for him when I had been simply a memory. I had betrayed him once, and I was on the verge of doing so again. Perhaps I was better off dead. I was another reminder of eight years ago... a broken, deadly doll, in all senses of the words. But if I wasn't here... what would happen to Lord Cain? That innocent boy had already suffered so much. I no longer knew if I was protecting him or prolonging his agony.

"Riff... please..." I had never heard such a pleading tone in his voice. What had taken me over? This wasn't Riffael's influence, but rather my own weakness. I was being selfish. Lord Cain... needed me. And until he no longer desired my service, I would be his.

I opened my eyes again, and met his gaze. Slowly, moving carefully, as if I could break the man in front of me with a single movement, I sat up. There was nothing I could say to him. I had betrayed him yet again, and I couldn't even bring myself to ask for his forgiveness. He shouldn't forgive me. Even if I had fought Riffael back, like I had eight years ago, I still betrayed him yet again. Slowly, I sat up, unsure what to say, or even if I should attempt to say anything at all.

Lord Cain, as well, remained silent. He hadn't even moved since my collapse. Slowly, his eyes closed, the blank look on his face replaced with something akin to acceptance. Whatever that look meant... it wasn't right. I couldn't allow him to be in pain over anything I had said. "Lord Cain," I said gently. The right words had finally come to me. "I will not accompany you to hell, my lord. I will protect you from it, with my life, if necessary." My body, my life, my entire self... I had always belonged to him in my entirety. He was more to me than I could comprehend. And even if I... no... Riffael... was causing his descent into hell, I would protect him.

Cain remained frozen for a second. Then, before I knew what was happening, he had clutched my shirt with one hand, his forehead resting on my shoulder. I recognized this... and I was almost relieved. That innocent boy I had loved and protected since I had first seen him was still in this man. He had always done this... when he was hurt, he always came to me. And for that boy... for this man... I would do anything. And I would make sure that I would always be there for him.

The door slowly squeaked open, and Lord Cain remained resting on my shoulder for a second. In that moment, I saw Crehador's face go through a range of expressions. All of them muted... he wasn't one to reveal his emotions... but he started at rage and ended in confusion. No doubt he was furious that I had escaped the bonds he had placed on me... and rather unsure about what to think of the position he had found us in. But Lord Cain quickly straightened himself, and looked the medium in the eyes. His face, as always, was composed. Only his eyes showed his anger... and even then, I wasn't sure if the emotion was visible to anyone but myself.

"Lord Cain," I said, attempting to placate him somewhat. He was, no doubt, unhappy that he hadn't known what had been done to me. But I would have done the same thing, if I could. Anything that could protect my lord would be done unfailingly. It was almost reassuring to know that Crehador had thought the same. At least Cain hadn't been utterly abandoned these years...

"You escaped, I see," Crehador noted dryly. He had regained total control again, and was looking unflinchingly at me. If he could see the anger in my lord's eyes, he was ignoring it.

"Lord Cain, it was for the best," I said quietly. Crehador wasn't helping matters, but perhaps I could make Lord Cain see the truth. I had lowered my voice deliberately, so Crehador wouldn't be able to hear me.

"_Oh yes, for the best. Certainly. We wouldn't want you to be... naughty... would we?"_ Riffael interjected with a laugh. I forced his voice back down in my mind. Not now.

"For the best?!" Lord Cain responded softly to me, his eyes narrowing. "You don't deserve to be treated like that."

"I believe I did, my lord. It was the most reasonable thing to do to protect you," I asserted, responding in the same volume. I most certainly deserved to be treated like as I was. I deserved that, and much worse, for hurting him... for abandoning him... for failing him.

A small frown passed over Crehador's face when I looked at him again. But nothing of what he thought was spoken aloud. Instead, he simply said, "I would like to talk to Riff, Cain. Alone." Cain almost glared at him... an expression I rarely saw from the ever-impassive lord of the Hargreaves. But this... this was important. Further fighting between the two of us would only lead to harm for Lord Cain.

"Certainly," I said smoothly, before Lord Cain could say anything. A smirk flashed across Crehador's face, but it was gone almost too quickly to tell it had been there at all. Lord Cain simply nodded his acceptance, apparently trusting my judgment. Crehador had been the one to bring me back, and no matter how much he despised me, he wouldn't take me out of the world again. He wouldn't do that to Cain... at least, I believed so. He cared for Cain more than he hated me.

With one final glance at me, Lord Cain stood and left the room, closing the door behind him. I wouldn't be surprised if he went no further than the threshold of the doorway, but it appeared Crehador was thinking along the same lines. The medium walked briskly towards me, and I stood slowly. Lethargy was gripping me again... I felt almost as I had been when I had first awoken, before Lord Cain had revived me with his blood. Did that mean...

"Well. Riffael," Crehador said calmly. I stiffened immediately when he referred to me by my full name. I was not Riffael. Riffael was my cruel self that I suppressed, the one that had to disappear if Lord Cain was ever going to be truly safe. I was Riff. The name that Lord Cain always called me by... and my true self. Even if I was... artificial. I was real, because I had Lord Cain.

"Riff," I corrected calmly. I felt a slight stirring in the back of my mind. Riffael... speak of the devil, in the most literal way possible. But for now, he didn't comment. Unusual. It seemed he was listening.

"Perhaps at the moment, you are," Crehador responded coolly, his eyes narrowing. "But not always. I have been with Cain for eight years... and I was with Delilah in its final days. Do you think I wouldn't know what you meant when you said that name?"

I had said...? Then I remembered. In the last moments before Riffael had taken over, I had desperately needed to communicate the danger that I had presented to Lord Cain. But I thought I had been ineffectual... I thought he wouldn't know what I was saying. But to know that someone else had learned of Riffael... it was... I didn't even know what to think. Part of me was shocked. Another part felt relief. But mostly... "If you know what I am... you must know how to suppress him."

"_Ha. You would even turn to this man? It won't be that simple. It isn't possible, Riff..."_

"I know nothing of the sort," Crehador responded tersely. I heard Riffael's laughter echoing in my head. Was there truly no way to rid myself... to rid Lord Cain... of this demon? "But..." the medium continued after a second, "... there may be another who does. There once was, at least."

What? I wasn't even sure what to say. There was someone who could suppress Riffael. A small sliver of hope flared up, but it was quickly extinguished as I focused on his next phrase. There once was. This person, whoever he or she was, was gone. Dead? No doubt, if this person could suppress Riffael, he or she had died with Delilah. Justice? She had created the person I was now, and suppressed Riffael, certainly. But why would Crehador even bother to mention the possibility if the only person who could do it was irretrievably gone?

"I am leaving again soon," He stated calmly. "I don't trust you alone for a second with Cain. But he... he would trust you with anything." Another small frown passed over his lips. What was the emotion I saw on Crehador's face? It was unidentifiable. Something, perhaps, like jealousy... or maybe remembering something painful. Perhaps he was remembering the one that had been closest to him, once. That woman, Sheila... his lover. The woman who, no matter what she said, turned to him in her moment of need. The woman I... no, Riffael... had killed.

"_That's touching. Does that mean that whore's love for this medium is equal to your Cain's feelings for you? At least the way you interpreted it."_ A small chuckle interrupted Riffael's statement, and he continued on, his tone obviously mocking._ "Is that what you wish for? The child that was cast out of the Garden, caught in a web of sin and sodomy. How appropriate..."_

"Enough," I growled under my breath, not meaning the words to be vocalized. Nor had I meant for any reaction to be visible... but I had clenched my fists. As soon as I realized what I had done, I relaxed my posture, concentrating on becoming impassive once again. I couldn't let Riffael take advantage of me and manipulate my emotions as he liked.

Crehador had been watching me closely. Now that I realized he knew of Riffael, I felt more exposed under his stare. He knew what my blank gaze meant. Surprisingly, though, he made no comment. Instead, he simply looked down at his hand. A delicate emerald ring was resting on his palm. "Cain had made a request of me. And I intend to fulfill it." The medium picked hooked the ring on the tip of one finger, inspecting it slowly. "I have a tea party to set up."

What...? I looked more closely at the ring as he set it back in his palm. A small ring. As if it had belonged to a girl or a petite young woman. Before I could contemplate that fully, Crehador turned and left the room, tucking the ring back into the pocket of his pants and sweeping a top hat onto his head. A top hat? What he was wearing wasn't like him. The black suit, and equally dark top hat, looked more like something Lord Cain would wear...

And then I remembered.

"When this is done, and I get back, we'll have a tea party in the garden," I paraphrased slowly. Lord Cain had said that... and that ring was familiar. That ring had been Mikaila's... and before that, Suzette's. I knew it had come into Lord Cain's possession. That was part of Riffael's memories, not mine. Lord Alexis laughing as he recounted how his little creation had transferred the ring to Miss Maryweather's possession, and how his 'daughter' had given it to Cain as a protective charm. But why now, after eight years? If Lord Cain had survived, then why did Crehador wait so long to reveal that fact to Miss Mary?

I heard footsteps, and I tore myself out of my thoughts. Had Crehador returned again? No... Lord Cain was framed in the doorway. He was unreadable for a second. Then a smirk passed over his face. At that moment, I could see him as he once was. I didn't notice the shadows under his eyes or how these eight years had aged him. I saw the innocent boy and the beautiful young man I knew so well. And then I understood why Crehador had waited.

After all this time... after eight years... Lord Cain had finally been reborn.


End file.
